Dave Bonta's "Body builder" plays on a familiar phrase. We expect muscles and gym weights, but the poem gives us something stranger: a body made of water. The speaker wonders "which hand is first hand," as if that body were still taking shape and had not yet decided where to begin. It's a question about origins, and also about touch, since a hand is how we reach for things.
The second stanza goes a step further back. Water itself is built of ice "and a little quiet." That's an odd, lovely turn, because quiet isn't a material you can pour into a mold. The poem seems to suggest that stillness is part of what makes anything solid, or that things start out frozen and silent before they flow.
The mood is hushed and curious. The speaker doesn't sound anxious, just wondering. Judging by the imagery, the poem treats the body as something fluid and fragile, always made of something earlier.